


to unfortunate souls (i’ll hold your hand)

by jjokkiri



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Child!Changkyun, Child!Minhyuk, Fluff, M/M, Minor Character Death, Single Parents, teacher!hoseok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 15:24:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12938124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjokkiri/pseuds/jjokkiri
Summary: After his estranged older brother is diagnosed with a terminal illness and seeks reconciliation, Yoo Kihyun’s life changes completely. But, he learns that everything gets better with time–and that it’s extremely difficult to be a single father.





	to unfortunate souls (i’ll hold your hand)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asiannoodles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asiannoodles/gifts).



> For my dearest soulmate, who deserves so much better than this. Happy birthday! I hope your day was amazing and that all your following days will continue to be amazing. I love you the most! ♡

As a recently graduated university student, hardly put together and hardly able to find a stable career, Yoo Kihyun was far from a point where he could take any kind of adversity that came at him. He had student loans to pay off, a career to expand on and a social life to find all over again. With his degree in business administration, Kihyun was well off in trying to open and manage his own café with a couple of his friends from university, but every investment took time to mature and they barely made enough revenue to outweigh their expenses–they weren’t doing terribly, but they had a long way to go before they could call themselves a success.

They had a plan and so long as everything went according to plan, they’d be successful enough in a couple of years. It was a hit they could take, in the long-run. In the mind of an entrepreneur, the prospective return on his investment would be worth it in a couple of years. In their second year of operations, there wasn’t very much that he could consider of his income to be _profit._ It was enough to take care of himself and pay the bills–enough to have a little bit left over, when he really wanted to splurge on a new, fancy camera lens.

Having a child in his life was something that Yoo Kihyun hadn’t thought of. At any given moment of his life, as far as he could recall, there had yet to be a moment where he’d found the time to sit down and think about how he wanted to raise a child. In an ideal perspective, he would have gotten married so much later in his life, after securing a stable career and made enough money to support a family, and raised a child alongside someone whom he’d promised his life to. In an ideal perspective, he wouldn’t have been given the responsibility of taking care of a child, after having just graduated university and barely having started his career. In an ideal world, Yoo Kihyun wouldn’t be taking care of a child that wasn’t his, at twenty-five years of age.

But, apparently, nothing ever went according to plan. It seemed that life never liked to pave smooth paths to reasonable goals. For Yoo Kihyun, everything just happened to be a little more difficult, when he was roughly pushed into situations he never quite asked for. The moment his life changed completely was the very second he’d stepped back into his apartment after a long day at work and picked up an incoming call from his mother.

 _“Kihyun-ah,”_ his mother’s voice was soft over the phone. The tone of her voice was comforting and reminded him of home–he hadn’t been home in a couple of weeks, now, being so overwhelmed with work. He missed her, undoubtedly and it was comforting to hear her warm voice. But, there was a tremor in her tone that made something in his chest jolt with worry. _“If it’s possible, could you come home this weekend?”_

“This weekend?” Kihyun repeated into the phone, furrowing his eyebrows and untying his apron. He neatly hung it up on a hook in the kitchen and he leaned against his kitchen island, putting the phone onto its speaker setting. “You need me to come back to Ilsan? Why so suddenly?”

Having established his café in Anyang, Kihyun found himself unable to come home often. From the time he was eighteen until now, Kihyun was unable to go home unless there was a major holiday–even then, he needed to leave early and head back to school. That was when he lived in Seoul. The distance from Anyang to Ilsan wasn’t very far, but for someone who worked almost every single day of the week and didn’t own a car, taking public transportation from his workplace to his home was a stretch on short notice.

Whenever there were family plans, his mother tended to make sure that she told him weeks in advance to make sure that he could clear his schedule and come home. She’d call him several weeks before the event and then, she’d call him again the week before, just to remind him and make sure that nothing came up. But, this time, the last time she’d called him was over three weeks ago, and she hadn’t mentioned anything about needing to come home.

Often times, he felt like a terrible son for being unable to come home and visit frequently, but there was always his mother’s insistence that he needed to make a living and take care of himself. She was happy with seeing him every once in a while and listening to his voice when he wasn’t too busy to call home and check up on her.

At her request, Kihyun’s eyes flickered up to the calendar on his fridge and the packed schedule scribbled onto the whiteboard with a small blank space. His schedule had the time for a quick trip home, if it was an emergency, but he wouldn’t be able to stay very long—probably needed to leave the following morning, if anything. He couldn’t leave his assistant manager (and best friend), Lee Jooheon, to take care of the café alone.

There was a pause, and then his mother’s shaky tone came through the speaker of his phone again.

 _“Kihyun-ah,”_ she said, softly. _“Soohyun…_ your brother _–your older brother is in the hospital. He’s been in the hospital for three weeks now, and he insists that he wants to see you. Can you make some time to come home and see him, sweetheart?”_

 

 

 

The truth was that when his brother went off to university, they lost contact with one another and never really tried to mend the broken relationship. Once inseparable with the older man, Kihyun found almost heartbreaking that he could no longer remember simple things like his brother’s favourite colour. There were times when Kihyun even forgot that he had an older brother to begin with—that was just how little they interacted with one another. To a degree, they were estranged and it was sad, considering how close they’d been as children. But, the fault wasn’t entirely his own: Soohyun never attempted to reach out and speak to him first, either.

They both held a fault for their broken relationship, but when Kihyun peered into the hospital room, which his mother expected for him to write down, Kihyun felt like it was all his fault. Seeing his older brother in the hospital bed, strapped up into countless machines and barely breathing, it felt like he should have tried a little harder to stay in his brother’s life, when they were drifting apart. Soohyun was much paler, much skinner, than he remembered, his dark hair making him look almost ghastly in the harsh light of the hospital room. The blank walls that surrounded the older man did nothing to make his frail figure look less pitiful.

Swallowing the sudden, overwhelming wave of guilt that threatened to eat him alive, Kihyun held his breath and rapped his knuckles against the door of the hospital room before clearing his throat, softly. It was subtle, but it was enough to grab his brother’s attention. When Soohyun turned to look at him, the older man’s eyes looked almost empty. Registering Kihyun’s face, though, he seemed to look a little bit brighter—if it were at all possible to even look bright, when his visage was virtually lifeless.

“Kihyun,” his brother called, voice soft and warm, “You actually came.”

The pang of guilt struck him again and he nodded his head, moving to take a seat beside his brother’s hospital bed. After almost twelve years, he was seeing his older brother again. There was a pain that jolted in his chest, because his brother genuinely believed that there was a chance that he wasn’t willing to visit him.

“Mother told me that you were in the hospital,” he said, quietly. “I asked my friend to watch over the café while I was gone. I… I didn’t know that something happened to you.”

“It’s alright,” Soohyun answered. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen one another. It’s understandable that you didn’t know. I didn’t tell you and you’ve been busy, I’m assuming. You opened a café?”

Kihyun nodded his head, “With a couple of friends,” he answered. “Friends from university.”

“That’s good for you,” Soohyun told him with a soft smile on his lips. “Even while we were growing up, you’ve always been very good with your hands. The title of a café owner suits you. I’m happy to hear that you really grew up to be successful—we used to joke that I’d be the better businessman, but look at you.”

“I’m just a café owner,” he replied, smiling a little at the faint memory, prompted by Soohyun’s words, of the two of them when Kihyun was thirteen and an eighteen year old Soohyun teased him relentlessly for every little thing. “I bake pastries and I make coffee, outside of all the management stuff. It’s not that special.”

“But, it’s successful, isn’t it?” Soohyun asked. “I know you, Kihyun. Don’t be so modest. I know you’re doing well.”

“It’s a new business,” he admitted, quietly. “We’re still operating at a small profit. All the funds go right back into improving the café. It’s not all that great, yet.” Looking up at his brother, he sighed softly, “What are you doing with your life? When you get out of here that is?”

There was sadness in Soohyun’s eyes when he looked up at him and then a quiet laugh, but it was far from a laugh out of happiness. Perhaps, it was more heartbreaking than anything, because Kihyun felt the way his heartstrings pulled uncomfortably at the tone of his brother’s voice.

“I was a marketing manager for an entertainment company. A marketing manager and a father,” Soohyun told him. “But, I’m not getting out of here. Not alive, at least.”

That was two different bombs striking him at once. Kihyun didn’t know which to approach first— _ask about what his brother meant? Ask about Soohyun’s family? What was he supposed to do?_ Frozen in place, Kihyun’s eyes shook as he studied his brother’s expression.

“I’m terminally ill, Kihyun,” Soohyun admitted, his voice quiet. Kihyun’s heart shattered at the words and his eyes widened at his older brother, scrambling for his words. Soohyun cut him off with a sad smile, eyes raising to look at the younger man, “I’m not going to be leaving the hospital alive. We’ve been trying to do something about it for the past two years, but there isn’t anything that will cure me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kihyun asked, tone broken. Soohyun shook his head.

“I’ve known for two years,” he said. “But, there wasn’t anything you could do about it, even if you wanted to, Kihyun. You were just going to be graduating university and knowing that your brother, who hadn’t spoken to you for over ten years, was terminally ill wouldn’t do anything for you. None of us could do anything about it. I asked mother to not tell you about it—there wasn’t really a point in you knowing.”

Kihyun swallowed, the pricking of tears biting at him and he pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, trying to find his words. His voice was barely above a whisper, when he spoke again, “Shouldn’t I have deserved known that I wouldn’t see my brother again, if I couldn’t come home?”

Soohyun glanced at him, exhaling a soft breath, “… you did. You really did, and I’m sorry I didn’t give that to you.”

“… how long do you have left?” he asked, the tears threatening to spill. His brother leaned his head back against the headboard of the hospital bed and he closed his eyes.

“A week,” he answered, softly. “I have a week left.”

 _“A week,”_ Kihyun repeated. He bit down on his lower lip, “Were you not going to tell me at all? Were you planning on just… leaving like that?”

Soohyun sighed, “… maybe. Maybe if I didn’t have something important to ask of you. I didn’t think I’d ever have a reason to talk to you again, after leaving you for so many years. But, I have something I need to ask of you—I need you to do something for me, Kihyun.”

“… What is it?” he asked, “Anything I can do for you, I’ll do. If I can do it, I’ll do it.”

Soohyun looked at him, eyes glistening with tears, “You’re an uncle, you know? You’ve been an uncle for five years, but you never knew. I never told you. He’s a small boy—he’s quiet and shy, but he’s the light of my life. You never got the chance to meet him, never got the chance to meet your nephew. He reminds me a lot of you, Kihyun. He’s smart and he already knows how to take care of himself—can even take a shower all on his own, now.

“His mother, Hyemi— _do you remember her?_ She was my girlfriend from when I entered university. I think I told you about her, once, during that last Christmas dinner we had together. We were together for four and a half years. But, she didn’t want anything to do with me, after she gave birth to our son. She left us when he was born. I was your age, when I became a father…

“Kihyun, I know this is very sudden to ask,” Soohyun continued, clearing his throat and trying to rid himself of the incoming threat of his pouring tears. Soohyun raised a hand, gently placing it onto Kihyun’s shoulder and smiling, sadly. It broke Kihyun’s heart into a million tiny fractals to see, but he listened to his brother speak, intently. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you, especially because I haven’t seen you in forever, and then I suddenly thrust this onto you. But, Kihyun… when I pass, I want you to adopt my son and raise him for me. I don’t want him to have to go to an orphanage, when he has family alive and well. I don’t know who would raise him, if he were to go to an orphanage—I trust you, though. You’re my little brother and I trust you more than I could ever trust anyone else to raise my son. It’s _so_ much to ask of you, but… is this something that you could do for your horrible big brother?”

At merely thirty years of age, Soohyun was having everything slip from between his fingers—his life falling away from him, too quickly to grasp. The least that Kihyun could do was to try his best to be the brother he should have been to Soohyun, all these years. So, with his torn heart stuck somewhere high up in his throat, Kihyun nodded his head, fingers closing around his brother’s frail wrist, sniffling softly when the older man pet his hair gently.

_“Thank you, Kihyun-ah.”_

 

 

 

Expectations were always greater than the reality of things. Kihyun didn’t have very much to offer a five year old child in his tiny apartment meant for one. But, he promised Soohyun that he would take care of his son and that was exactly what he would do. He only managed to see his brother one last time before the older man passed—a sudden trip back home, when Jooheon promised him that he could manage the café on his own (promising to enlist their friend’s help, if anything happened).

When Kihyun returned to Anyang, just after the funeral for his older brother—without his brother’s son (who was temporarily staying with his grandmother), because he needed time to rearrange his apartment—he immediately sent a text message to his friend, declaring that he was coming over because he had things to talk about—things to discuss with his only friends who were raising a child.

Kihyun knocked on the door of his friends’ home—his only friends who were now married, with their lives perfectly put together. Chae Hyungwon—father of one, Kihyun’s friend since first year university and his trusted web designer cum marketing manager—and his husband, Son Hyunwoo—step-father of one, also Kihyun’s friend since first year university and a brilliant actuary—were the only two parents he knew in his life, who were around his age. If there was anyone who could help him, surely, it would be them.

A little boy opened the door for Kihyun, head poking out of the door with a messy head of dark hair on his head and bright eyes, a matching bright smile on his lips, until he noticed that Kihyun wasn’t smiling like he usual was, when he visited them. The smile dropped from the eight year old boy’s lips and he furrowed his tiny brows in concern, reaching for Kihyun’s sleeve and gently pulling him into the house. Kihyun followed the little boy’s lead in.

“What’s wrong, Kihyun hyung?” he asked, softly. Kihyun sighed, ruffling the little boy’s hair.

“Don’t worry about me, Minhyuk-ah,” he said. “Your hyung is just a little bit sad.”

Minhyuk turned his small body, ushering Kihyun into the living room and offering him a seat on the sofa. Then, scrambling to pick up one of the stuffed animals scattered on the floor, the eight year old boy gave him an earnest smile. Minhyuk placed the plush puppy into Kihyun’s lap. “When I’m sad, Minmoongie makes me feel a lot better if I hug him for a little bit.”

Ruffling the little boy’s hair again, Kihyun flashed him a grateful smile, fixing the position of the plush toy in his lap. “Thank you, Minhyuk-ah,” he said. “You’re the sweetest.”

Hearing the sound of Kihyun’s voice, Minhyuk’s father appeared in the archway between the kitchen and the living room, leaning against the frame with a small smile on his lips. The tall, slender man watched them for a moment, before approaching his friend. Hyungwon was the first one to embrace him into a tight hug, slender arms wrapping around him, comfortingly. Immediately, Kihyun leaned against him and buried his face into the crook of Hyungwon’s neck, trying his best to hold back the tears.

Minhyuk, who was standing by Kihyun’s legs, looked between them in confusion.

“I’m sorry,” Hyungwon told him, quietly. “He’s in a better place, now.”

Kihyun exhaled, tearfully. His voice was shaky when he tried to speak, “I should have been better to him.”

Hyungwon sighed softly, gently running his fingers through Kihyun’s hair, comforting him like he’d comfort a child who was crying—hushing him with soft assurances. Minhyuk frowned as he watched them and Hyungwon glanced at his son, fingers still brushing through Kihyun’s dark grey locks to soothe him.

“Go play upstairs, Minhyuk-ah,” Hyungwon told his son, softly. “Daddy and your Kihyun hyung have to talk.”

Nodding obediently, Minhyuk picked up the toy car he’d been playing with and headed for the stairs. Turning around to flash Kihyun a bright smile, though, Minhyuk gestured to the plush puppy in Kihyun’s lap.

“Please feel better, Kihyun hyung,” he said, before he ran off. Minhyuk’s words managed to light a warm flame in his chest, making him feel a little _better._ Children always seemed to make everything better—there was something about their purity and their ignorance to the harsher things in the world that made them precious gifts.

Kihyun sniffled. Hyungwon handed him a tissue with a sad smile on his lips, before hesitating and then moving to wipe Kihyun’s tears for him—gentle fingers dabbing the hot streaks of tears on his face. Like a heartbroken child, Kihyun sat still for his friend to wipe his tears away, unable to do anything more.

“I should have been a better brother,” Kihyun repeated himself. “I should have reached out to him when he didn’t do it first. I regret not trying to be closer to my own family until it was too late, Hyungwon.”

Hyungwon shook his head, his fingers halting in their motion of gently wiping away Kihyun’s stray tears, “I’m sure Soohyun wouldn’t want you to feel so upset about something that wasn’t entirely your fault. You lost him and you have every right to be sad, but you know that your regrets can’t bring him back, hyung.”

Inhaling softly, Kihyun shifted his position, head resting against Hyungwon’s shoulder and no longer looking up at the taller man. There was a moment silence between them before Kihyun exhaled softly, choosing to change the topic to something else—something a little lighter on his heart. “Are you and Minhyuk home alone, right now?”

Hyungwon shook his head, “My husband is in his office,” he replied.

 _His husband._ Kihyun’s lips tugged into a small smile at the name. Hyungwon and Hyunwoo hadn’t been married for very long, but it was sweet to hear them acknowledge their marriage to other people with their passive little names.  Their love story was something that Kihyun always liked to hear about; falling in love at first sight and having everything work out was something just on the brink of a _dream._ After their graduation, Hyunwoo had confessed his feelings to Hyungwon and asked for acceptance and the chance to raise Minhyuk alongside Hyungwon. They hadn’t really thought about it nor had they intended to be married, until Minhyuk had asked them if they were married—to which Hyungwon had panicked and shook his head.

It was lifting to know that his friends had their lives together—something that wasn’t an absolute disaster.

“What school does Minhyuk go to?” Kihyun asked, softly. Hyungwon looked surprised at the question, but he tilted his head and folded the tissue he’d been wiping Kihyun’s tears with, holding it in his lap.

“He goes to the school down the street from here,” he replied, the confusion still evident in his voice, despite his willingness to answer his friend’s question. “It’s the little elementary school at the corner of the street that you see when you drive in from the café. Why?”

Kihyun inhaled, shakily. Then, letting his eyes flutter shut for a brief moment, Kihyun gathered himself and all of his nerves, trying to come to terms with the fact in his own mind, before he said it aloud. “Soohyun had a son. He’s five and his mother left them when he was still a baby.”

Hyungwon arched an eyebrow at him, seemingly unsure of where Kihyun was taking the conversation.

“My brother asked me to adopt his son and raise him for him,” he finally said, raising his eyes to meet with Hyungwon’s dark, concerned (and then shocked) eyes.

The nerves danced obviously in his own eyes. At twenty-five years of age and not yet daring to think of building a family, Kihyun was leagues different from Chae Hyungwon who had been immediately prepared to raise a son, when he’d accidentally knocked up his girlfriend in first year university and she came to him, crying.

“I need to know everything about raising a child.”

 

 

 

Kihyun had to ask Jooheon to drive him back to Ilsan on the day that he was to pick his brother’s son up and take him back to Anyang. There wasn’t a single chance that Kihyun was going to take with taking a child with him on public transit and risk anything happening to him on the crowded subway. Changkyun, Soohyun’s son, was far from pleased to see him again—perhaps, because he was hoping that he could stay with his grandmother for longer.

He’d only met the little boy at the funeral—a small boy, who strikingly resembled his brother and looked practically nothing like himself. Changkyun had been hiding behind his grandmother’s leg, burying his face into her skirt with eyes ringed red with tears. Kihyun’s heart hurt, because the child’s tears clearly meant that he knew exactly what was happening. Kihyun’s heart hurt, because Changkyun was a child who would unfortunately have to learn about the harsh reality so much earlier than other children.

Changkyun didn’t seem to like him at all upon their first meeting, and he supposed that no child could really trust a practical stranger. All Changkyun really knew about him was that he was his father’s little brother—and he’d only heard his father say it, and his grandmother confirm the fact. In moving to live with Kihyun, Changkyun was moving to live with a complete stranger and trusting the words of the people he _knew_. He didn’t know Kihyun.

It was another regret he had. He should have kept in contact with his brother; should have known about the developments in his brother’s life; should have known that the older man started a family and that he’d become an uncle. It was five years since Changkyun’s birth and he’d only just found out that the little boy existed. If that didn’t make him a terrible uncle, then he really wasn’t quite sure what else could trigger that title.

He didn’t expect for Changkyun to like him, but he was hoping that they would get along at the very least. He probably wouldn’t be very happy with needing to move in with a practical stranger either. He had few expectations for a situation that he could only imagine. But, the whole concept of having to raise a child was already a daunting task, and the idea of having to raise a child who had every potential to hate him was a thousand times worse.

Kihyun voiced his concerns to Jooheon in the car, on the way to his mother’s home. The younger man had nothing to offer him but a kind, comforting smile and a gentle hand, reaching to hold onto his for the rest of the drive; a reassuring gesture that everything would be alright.

Changkyun only had a small suitcase of his clothes and a stuffed animal in his arms, when they arrived to Kihyun’s mother’s place. She handed over the child’s belongings, letting him hang onto the plush toy as he sat down on the sofa, not willing to leave the house and go with Kihyun. Kihyun couldn’t blame him. It really was something to ask of a child to move in with an uncle whom they’d never met before, after losing their father.

Shrugging his jacket off of his shoulders after placing Changkyun’s belongings into Jooheon’s car and taking a seat on the sofa next to Jooheon, Kihyun gratefully accepted the tea which his mother insistently offered to them ( _“Surely, you don’t want to leave after just getting here! You should have a seat and rest with some tea before you get back on the road,”_ she’d told them with a kind, heartwarming smile).

(And he’d understand it, with everything he had, if she was just wanting to have her younger son at home for a little longer, after having just lost her firstborn child.)

“Who are you?” the five year old boy asked, legs dangling off the edge of the sofa, frowning at Jooheon. Kihyun’s best friend was far from deterred by the child’s displeased expression upon seeing another stranger.

“I’m your uncle’s best friend. I’m going to be driving you and your uncle back to your new home, today. My name is Jooheon. You can call me Jooheon hyung,” Jooheon replied, bending down a little bit in his seated position and smiling at the child. “What’s your name?”

“Changkyun,” he answered, a short and obviously disinterested response. Changkyun furrowed his brows, crossing his arms over his chest, looking up at Jooheon’s bright smile. “You have a hole in your face.”

Jooheon hesitated, smile dropping from his face as Changkyun’s words rendered him completely unsure of how to respond. He raised his hand and touched his own face for a second (as if he were trying to confirm if there was actually a hole in his face). _“Oh_ , that’s not a hole, Changkyun. This is called a _dimple_.”

Changkyun blinked at him, awkwardly playing with the foot of the bunny plush toy in his lap. “It makes you look like a very nice puppy,” Changkyun mumbled. Jooheon seemed surprised by the remark and he laughed.

Kihyun’s lips curled into a small smile. _At the very least, they seemed to be getting along fine._

They really don’t stay at his mother’s place for very much longer. The cup of tea she’d served to them timed their stay with his mother. The drive back to Anyang would take a while, and they needed to spend the rest of the day getting Changkyun comfortable in Kihyun’s apartment. If they wanted to rest at a reasonable hour and if Jooheon wanted to open the café at the right time, the next morning, then they needed to leave sooner than later.

“Take care. Take care of yourself, because I know you’ll do a great job taking care of Changkyun,” his mother told him, as he wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. She stepped onto the tips of her toes, as he crouched down a little bit for her to give him a sweet kiss on the cheek. “Come visit more often. I’d like to see you and our little Changkyunnie as often as I can.”

“I’ll do my best,” Kihyun replied, nodding his head. He turned his head, looking to where Jooheon was crouched onto the floor and helping Changkyun into his jacket. “I have a lot more to worry about than just my job and personal finances, now. I’ll work out something with Jooheon… I’m sure he won’t mind taking care of the café alone a little more often for me to come back more often, especially since Changkyun is with me, now.”

His mother smiled and nodded her head. Then, turning to Jooheon, she stepped towards the blond boy.

“Drive safely,” she told him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. She pressed a kiss to Jooheon’s cheek and the blond immediately cupped his cheek, other hand flying to his chest and gasping softly—obviously touched at her actions. She laughed softly at him.

Then, she bent down, opening her arms for Changkyun. The little boy ran across the foyer, right into her arms.

“Be good to your uncle and remember to eat your vegetables, okay?” she reminded him, softly pressing a kiss to his forehead. Changkyun’s arms stayed wrapped around his grandmother, nodding quietly at her words.

Kihyun watched them, standing beside Jooheon and watching the pair in tender embrace. A part of Kihyun’s mind nagged at him for being the one to tear apart a built bond for something that was yet to be created, but his brother had asked for him to raise his son for him. (They both knew that their mother wouldn’t have the strength and health to take care of a child alone for very long.)

When Changkyun finally let go of his grandmother, he slowly padded back over to where Kihyun and Jooheon stood, looking up at them with wide, innocent eyes.

“Are you ready to go?” Kihyun asked, holding out his hand for Changkyun to take it.

The little boy blankly looked at his hand before brushing past him and following Jooheon out to the car.

Kihyun’s heart painfully clenched in his chest.

 

 

 

With Changkyun under his roof, his life seemed to change significantly. It wasn’t a surprise that it would, but Kihyun still struggled to work with the sudden changes in his life. Changkyun didn’t take to the change very easily, either—he still refused to meet Kihyun’s eyes at the dinner table, whether they were eating breakfast or having dinner. No matter what Kihyun tried to do, the little boy kept his distance from him and there was very little that Kihyun could do to develop a bond with a little boy who refused to let down his guard.

The child barely even spoke to him. He spent his time with his colouring books, when he wasn’t being forced to interact with Kihyun and the grey-haired man couldn’t help but feel a little disheartened. He didn’t know how to make a child feel more comfortable with him—never had to deal with anything of the sort before.

When he was told to befriend Hyungwon’s son, the little boy had accepted him with open arms. Minhyuk was a friendly boy, and he hadn’t been expected to change his entire life to move in with a practical stranger. To the both of them, their situation with Kihyun was drastically different and they couldn’t be compared.

But, he couldn’t deny that it hurt, when he noticed that Changkyun was ten times more comfortable with Jooheon than he was with someone who was blood related. And perhaps, that was because Changkyun wasn’t expected to treat Jooheon with the same standard—Jooheon was simply Kihyun’s friend. Kihyun, on the other hand, was his legal guardian despite being a complete stranger, up until a couple of weeks ago.

Comfort came with time and it had only been two weeks since they’d moved in together and it wasn’t reasonable for Kihyun to expect the little boy to comfortable with him, yet. Kihyun himself was barely comfortable with the fact that he was raising a child, to begin with. The twenty-five year old man could barely wrap his head around the fact that he was now sleeping on the pullout bed on his sofa, because he was absolutely certain that Changkyun would be uncomfortable sleeping on the same bed as him.

At five years of age, Changkyun really did have a petrifying glare—Kihyun supposed that the little boy took after his mother, there, because Soohyun never looked scary when he was trying to make a point (and Kihyun never thought he’d ever be quite intimidated by a child who was _literally_ one-fifth of his age). It didn’t take a genius to know that Changkyun wasn’t happy with him—nor the entire idea of having to live with him.

Kihyun had asked Hyungwon and Hyunwoo to come with him to Minhyuk’s school, several days after he’d visited their home, crying—and together, they’d registered Changkyun into Minhyuk’s school with the information that Kihyun’s mother had sent to him. School started for the children, just a couple days after Changkyun moved into Kihyun’s apartment, after all. That was something he’d managed to get under control after the adoption papers were finalized and sent to him. And truthfully, it was the only thing that seemed to have gone perfectly, after his brother passed, because Changkyun refused to cooperate with him for everything else. The most that Changkyun did for him was willingly eat with him.

The little boy was hardly even willing to acknowledge him as a family member—he simply addressed him by his first name without any honorifics. At first, it was surprising for him to hear his name spoken by a five year old child—simply as it was. But, he didn’t make the effort to correct Changkyun and force him to use a polite honorific with his name; figured it was already hard enough for the child, and that he could live with the blatant rudeness until Changkyun got comfortable with him. He supposed that Changkyun’s simple acknowledgement of his existence was more than enough as a starting point to their relationship.

And more than anything, the learning curve of knowing that he needed to change his daily routines to accommodate a child was daunting. _Daunting_ , but something that he needed to do. Waking up early wasn’t for making a simple breakfast, and proceeding to dash out of his apartment and towards the café at that perfect moment that would take him to the entrance of the café just before the opening hour, anymore. Waking up early now meant that he needed to prepare breakfast for a five year old child and then walk the child to school, before he could head off to work. Then, after work, he needed to remember to pick Changkyun up from school and take him home.

Changkyun’s very first day of school was _eventful,_ to say the least.

“Changkyun-ah,” Kihyun called, bending down next to the bed and gently shaking the little boy awake. Still half asleep, Changkyun squirmed under the thick covers of the bed, burying himself under the sheets and ignoring Kihyun’s voice. Despite everything, Kihyun’s heart swelled with affection at the little boy’s reaction. “Changkyun-ah, you need to get up. We have to get you to school.”

“I don’t wanna,” Changkyun replied, curling into a ball on the bed. Kihyun exhaled a soft breath, shaking his head in amusement. To Kihyun, the bed wasn’t very big, but when he looked at the way Changkyun was rolled up in the middle of it, it looked like the child was drowning in the blankets. It was endearing.

“You have to go to school,” he told him, softly. Gently, he reached a hand to pet the little boy’s head, in an attempt to ease him awake. “I promise it’ll be fun. I know you don’t really like me or being here, but school is going to be fun. You can meet some new friends and it’ll be nice.”

Changkyun peered out from under the covers, his hair a disastrous mess and Kihyun bit back an amused chuckle at the little boy’s appearance. His fingers reached out to gently brush the little boy’s hair out of his eyes. Changkyun’s tiny hands curled around the edge of the blanket and he made at face at Kihyun.

“I don’t like this place,” he replied, frowning. “I want to go back home. I don’t want to go to school.”

Kihyun inhaled, trying to not let the hurt show in his eyes. He moved his hand away from the little boy’s small figure and he placed them both on the edge of the bed, awkwardly playing with the soft blanket, not knowing what to do with himself, anymore. In the two weeks they’d been together, that was probably the longest sentence that Changkyun had managed to say to him, and it only made it hurt more.

“… I know,” Kihyun replied, his voice a shaky exhale. “I know you want to go back home, and I know that you don’t like it here, nor do you like me. But… we don’t really have a choice, Changkyun-ah.”

“I want papa to come back,” Changkyun told him, biting down on his lower lip. The little boy’s eyes misted over with tears and his expression twisted, making Kihyun’s heart clench with pain. “I want to go _home_.”

He didn’t know how to comfort a child. He didn’t know how to comfort someone who was a million times closer to his brother than he’d ever been. Changkyun was Soohyun’s child and he was perfectly aware of the fact that his father was no longer walking on the same ground as them. Changkyun felt pain that was a million times greater than the pain that Kihyun could even begin to fathom. He knew the pain of losing a parent, but Changkyun lost both of his and was expected to live with a stranger. That was a pain that Kihyun couldn’t ever grasp, no matter how hard he tried to imagine it. It was impossible to put himself in the child’s shoes.

He was silent for a moment, his eyes filling themselves with heartbreak when he looked at the little boy’s face. Reaching for a tissue on the nightstand, Kihyun gently dabbed the child’s tears. There was nothing he could say that could soothe the little boy’s heart and mind.

“I want him to come back, too,” he admitted, softly. Changkyun almost looked surprised at his words—his very quiet words. “I also wish that I could have been a better brother to him, while he was still here. And I wish I could have been a better uncle to you, all this time, Changkyun-ah. I really regret everything I could have done, but didn’t do. We can’t change it now, but I really just want to make it up to the both of you. Your papa asked me to take care of you, and I promised your papa that I’d do that for him. I can’t do that if you won’t let me, Changkyun-ah.”

Pouring his heart out to a child was far from something he’d ever expected himself to do, but in a situation like this, he didn’t think there was very much he could do. If he wanted to slowly break down the wall that Changkyun put up around himself, then he should be the first to try and reach out to the little boy—it sounded like reasonable logic. He wanted, more than anything, to be able to fulfill his late brother’s wishes—and that started with _this._

Changkyun looked at him, taking the tissue from Kihyun’s hands and holding it in his own. The little boy rubbed the sheet against his face, wiping his own tears. There was another silence between them, before Changkyun spoke up, quietly, “… what’s a _‘regret’_?”

Kihyun sighed, gently placing a hand on top of Changkyun’s head. This time, the little boy didn’t make a face at the contact between them. “It’s when you feel sad about something that has already happened. When you’re sad about something that can’t be changed, sweetie.”

 _“Oh,”_ Changkyun said, eyes moving away from Kihyun’s face and to the wall. The five year old boy looked down at his hands, playing with the tissue paper and sniffling. “… Papa told me that you were a good person, Kihyun. He said that I have to be good with you, when he has to go.”

Unsure of how to respond to the words, Kihyun’s eyes moved to the clock and he removed his hand from where it was rested atop the little boy’s head. Kihyun bit down on his lower lip, nodding his head at the boy’s words. _Soohyun still thought of him as a good person, even after all of this time—even after everything they went through without one another._ It took him a moment to gather himself and not let the emotions overwhelm him, again.

“Please get up,” Kihyun said, softly. “I’m sure that your papa would want you to go to school, Changkyun-ah.”

Nodding quietly, the little boy pushed the covers to the side and carefully climbed off the bed, heading to the washroom. Kihyun followed him with quiet footsteps.

 

 

 

“I really didn’t think he’d cry,” Kihyun remarked, finishing the perfect swirl of whipped cream on top of latte and placing it onto the counter for the customer. Jooheon chuckled, his eyes focused on the screen of the cash register and he raised an eyebrow at Kihyun’s remark. The grey-haired man had only just arrived at the café—almost late, and they’d immediately gotten to work. They hadn’t had the time to casually converse, and Kihyun took the current moment as the best time to talk to his best friend.

“Don’t all kids cry when they head off for their first day of school?” he asked, “I heard Minhyuk bawled his eyes out, too, because he realized that Hyungwon wasn’t allowed to stay with him for the whole day.”

“Changkyun doesn’t really even want to stay with me,” he said, “But, he cried and hid behind my leg and refused to walk past the gate until the principal held his hand and promised him that I’d be back at the end of the day.”

“Does it feel like he likes you a little more, now?” Jooheon inquired, tapping a couple buttons on the screen. Kihyun looked over at the screen. “Or at least, does it feel like he likes you more than he did in the past few days you’ve been sending me text messages about how you think the kid might hate you?”

Kihyun shook his head, leaning back against the counter with a small frown on his lips, “I don’t know, really. We talked a little bit, this morning, about how we felt, I guess. But, I can’t tell if he likes me any better.”

Jooheon hummed in response. Kihyun really couldn’t tell if Changkyun liked him any better than he did, previously, but if the way that he clung to the back of Kihyun’s leg before he’d gone into the school was signifying anything, then maybe they were slowly getting somewhere. There brief was a silence between the two of them before the younger man decided to speak up, again.

“Are you worried about him?” Jooheon asked, sliding out the register and reorganizing the bills in the shelf. Kihyun blinked at his best friend, confused. Jooheon glanced at him from the corner of his eye and pursed his lips, quickly restating his inquiry, “Like, are you worried about if he’ll be okay alone at school?”

Kihyun sighed softly, placing the whipped cream container down on the counter and flashed a quick smile to the customer who came to pick up her drink. He focused his attention back onto Jooheon, shrugging his shoulders.

“I don’t think so,” he replied, “He’s a smart kid. I think he got used to being around me, pretty quickly. He just prefers to ignore my presence when I’m in the same room as him and I’m not trying to feed him. So, I think he’ll get along with kids his age a lot quicker.”

“He ignores you when you’re in the same room?” Jooheon asked. “He doesn’t ignore me, though.”

Kihyun picked up a napkin and wiped the nozzle of the whipped cream container, sighing softly.

“Probably because you’re not his adoptive father, you know?” Kihyun arched an eyebrow. He shook his head when his fringe fell into his eyes with the way he looked down, sighing. His best friend regarded him, quietly.

“He’ll get used to it,” Jooheon told him, flashing a sweet smile and reaching to brush Kihyun’s fringe out of his eyes for him. Kihyun mirrored the smile, grateful for the motion. The grey-haired man sighed softly, nodding his head. Jooheon continued, “He can’t be like this forever. Everything takes time, but it’ll all get better in time. I don’t really know Changkyun, yet, but if there’s anything I can promise you, it’s the lesson we learned together—all throughout our university struggles—that everything gets better in time.”

“Thanks,” he exhaled. “I just wish it could be a lot sooner than later. It’s hard on both of us, you know?”

“He’s five,” Jooheon told him, chuckling softly. “Everything can’t just happen in a lightning strike.”

Kihyun rolled his eyes, flicking water at the younger man. “I already know that.”

Jooheon laughed, wiping it away, “I know you do. And I also know that you’ll do great taking care of him. So, don’t be too hard on yourself if it doesn’t go perfectly, like everything always does, okay?”

 

 

 

There were several things that could be classified as extremely inappropriate when picking up a child from school (and panicking ever so slightly while doing so). One of those things was probably blatantly checking out said child’s teacher in the middle of the search for the child. When he arrived at the school to pick Changkyun up, Kihyun wasn’t exactly sure where he was supposed to pick Changkyun up, because the principal had told him that the kids would be switching through classrooms all day.

Waiting at the front of the school with all of the other parents clearly wasn’t working, because while all the other parents had their children run out to them, Changkyun was nowhere in sight. Slowly, as parents disappeared from the front of the school, Kihyun’s nerves began to skyrocket. He quickly became worried that Changkyun wouldn’t be able to find him, which then escalated to being terrified that something might have happened to the child.

Rushing into the school, Kihyun had been lucky enough to find a teacher standing in the hallway, outside one of the classrooms, talking to the principal. Nervously, he’d interrupted them and inquired about Changkyun ( _“I’m sorry, but are there still any children in the school, because the one I didn’t see the one I’m supposed to pick up?”_ Kihyun said, terribly unsure of his own words). The principal barely seemed to recognize him (despite his being the only parent at the school who had an unnatural hair colour), but the dark-haired teacher, whom the principal was speaking to, turned and flashed him a charming smile.

“What’s the child’s name?” he asked. Kihyun stared at the taller man, trying his best to maintain his composure, finding himself slightly taken aback by the unexpected good looks of the other man, when he looked over at him.

 _“Ch-Changkyun…”_ he stammered. Kihyun awkwardly gestured his hands, an attempt to describe his nephew’s appearance, “His name is Changkyun. He’s about this tall and he’s five?”

The teacher’s eyes lit up at the name and the vague description of the child and he nodded.

“Well, aren’t you in luck?” he chuckled. “He’s in my classroom. Please, follow me.”

He wasn’t quite sure if that was something that could be classified as _luck_ , but what was an obvious fact, however, was that the teacher who was taking him to Changkyun was _fine._ And he’d be a little bit embarrassed at the fact that he was definitely staring, if he wasn’t also weighed down with the worry of needing to find Changkyun. The teacher told him where Changkyun was, but until the child was with him again, it was all about nerves and concern (and maybe a little bit of staring at the teacher’s broad shoulders and defined arms under his shirt).

And if Kihyun weren’t in public, then maybe, he’d slap himself for being unable to take his eyes off of the teacher.

“I’m Hoseok,” the taller man introduced himself with a smile, “Shin Hoseok. I’m Changkyun’s music teacher. You can just call me Hoseok, though. All the other parents do that.”

Before Kihyun could reply, the other man continued speaking.

“You must be Kihyun,” Hoseok said, suddenly. Kihyun looked up in surprise, before nodding and confirming his identity. “Changkyun mentioned you, a little bit earlier today,” the dark-haired man clarified, lips pressing into a tiny smile. “He said that you might be picking him up a little late, because you were at work and you might be a little busy, so I let him stay in my classroom.”

 _“Oh,”_ Kihyun managed to utter. A part of his heart swelled with affection for the child.

Soohyun really hadn’t been boasting for nothing, when he’d mentioned that his son was smart. Kihyun hadn’t tell Changkyun that he would be busy (he’d intended to do his best to leave work a little bit earlier to pick the child up from school and take him home), but he supposed that the child learned from the past week of staying with Kihyun.

On days where the café was terribly busy, he’d asked Hyungwon to pick Changkyun up from the café and take him to play with Minhyuk, because it would be boring for Changkyun to stay at the café, after he’d put away his crayons and decided against colouring. On some of those days, he’d promised to pick the child up at a certain time and always ran a couple minutes late. It was understandable that Changkyun derived such a conclusion from past events.

There was nothing else said after Kihyun managed his (rather useless) expression of surprise. But, walking in silence must have been a little bit awkward, because the other man broke the silence rather quickly, again.

“When he first mentioned you, I was kind of expecting you to be another child, until he said that you were at work,” the music teacher admitted. Kihyun looked at him, brows slightly furrowed—Hoseok continued to speak before Kihyun could ask him anything. “He called you without honorifics,” he clarified with a soft chuckle, “I know it isn’t really my business what he calls you, but it just made me think that you were around his age.”

Kihyun laughed softly, shaking his head, “No, unfortunately, I’m not,” he said. Then, after a moment of thought he quietly added, “He just… he’s just getting used to being around me, so I’m not too strict with honorifics.”

The dark-haired man arched an eyebrow but didn’t vocalize his obvious inquiry. Following him down the hallway, Kihyun clasped his hands behind himself and pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, putting a little more thought into his words, before he decided that he really had nothing to lose.

“I’m not his father,” Kihyun said, before pausing. He supposed that telling Changkyun’s teacher wouldn’t bring any harm—if anything, having someone at the school understand their situation might be little better. Kihyun cleared his throat. “Not biologically, at least. We’ve only been together for a little over two weeks, now. I don’t think he’s very comfortable with me, yet… but, I’m raising him on my own, now, so I’m just trying my best.”

Hoseok blinked, before his lips curved into a small smile as they approached the classroom door. There was music playing from inside the classroom—Kihyun could hear the sound of a piano and the ringing of bells, which sounded just slightly off-beat. The sound had his lips curling into a smile.

“I thought he might have been your little brother, when I saw you,” Hoseok admitted. “I see that I’m wrong. But, I guess this makes a little more sense. He’s a good kid, and I’m sure that comfort is just a matter of time.”

Everyone seemed to tell him the same thing, and he had to believe it if he was hearing it so often. He knew that it was true, but listening to other people tell him it over and over was somewhat reassuring. It made him feel like this whole thing where Changkyun refused to meet his eyes was something that would end—that it wouldn’t last forever and there would be a weight lifted from his heart and mind.

“Changkyun,” Hoseok called, as they stepped into the classroom.

There was another teacher sitting in the room with Changkyun, watching the little boy happily shake the tambourine in his hands, as her fingers danced across the piano and played a familiar nursery rhyme. It was the happiest that Kihyun’s seen Changkyun since the little boy had moved in with him. His heart felt itself melting slowly at the sight. Hearing Hoseok’s voice, the little boy and the woman both turned to look at them.

“Your guardian is here to pick you up,” Hoseok said, gesturing to Kihyun. Flashing Changkyun a small smile, Kihyun waved at the little boy. Changkyun’s expression seemed to drop, but he placed the tambourine down, getting onto his feet and walking over to where Kihyun and Hoseok stood.

The warmth in Kihyun’s chest seemed to spread, but the way that Changkyun’s little footsteps took the little boy over to him with a slight frown on his lips had a distinct sadness lace itself into the spreading warmth. It made a hopeful heart lose sight of its wishes.

The grey-haired man bent down onto his knees and placed a gentle hand onto Changkyun’s head.

“Did you have fun at school, today?” he asked, softly. Changkyun nodded, wordlessly. Hoseok watched over them with a small smile on his lips. “Are you ready to go home?”

Again, Changkyun nodded, wordlessly.

It seemed as though Hoseok noted a change in behaviour in the child when he was in front of Kihyun, because the look on his face seemed to change into one of slight concern. Kihyun couldn’t blame him for it and he wouldn’t be surprised if Hoseok thought of him as someone who Changkyun really wasn’t close to at all, because he wouldn’t be wrong at all to think something like that.

Offering his hand to the little boy, again, Kihyun’s lips curled into a small smile—hoping that Changkyun would take his hand. But, even something like that took time. Kihyun exhaled softly, when Changkyun shook his head, while staring at the twenty-five year old man’s hand. The little boy brushed past him again, walking to the entrance of the classroom.

Sighing softly in disappointment, Kihyun tried to keep his expression neutral as he followed in the little boy’s footsteps. If Hoseok had been turning a blind eye to everything else, then that was the one thing that he finally showed a reaction to. The dark-haired man turned his head and followed in the younger man’s footsteps, gently placing a hand on his shoulder to capture his attention.

“Is this normal?” he asked, softly. Kihyun sighed softly, nodding his head.

“Unfortunately.”

Hoseok walked them to the front of the school, Changkyun walking beside him the entire time. And it was only when they were on the sidewalk in front of the school did Changkyun take a couple bigger steps and stand beside Kihyun. (Changkyun seemed to be comfortable with everyone but him, and it made him feel strange—a little disappointed, but he had to reassure himself that someday, it’d get better.)

“Thank you,” Kihyun told Hoseok, softly. The dark-haired man looked at him, curiously. Kihyun cleared his throat, clarifying his words; “For making his day a good one. He didn’t want to go to school at all, today, but he doesn’t even seem to want to leave, now. I think I owe you gratitude for making him feel a little more comfortable. He’s only just moved to Anyang, so… I’m really glad that he’s found something that he likes, at the very least.”

“I’m here to help, if you ever need anything, Kihyun,” Hoseok told him, smiling softly.

Kihyun’s heart skipped a beat, when he placed a gentle hand on Changkyun’s back and ushered the little boy away from the school.

 

 

 

Hoseok’s offer to help him with anything related to Changkyun ended up helping a lot more than he’d anticipated. Raising a child alone (especially at his age, having never expected such a turn in his life) was difficult, and on nights when Kihyun could hear Changkyun sniffling in his room, there was nothing much that he could do aside from knock on the door and offer the child some consolation in the form of a gentle hug and soft reassurances that he would be okay.  Sometimes, those nights meant sending a panicked text message to Hoseok, asking about how to deal with children who were crying their eyes out with no end in sight. Hoseok was better with children—whether they were smiling or crying their eyes out. The older man was better at handling children, overall, and Kihyun found himself relying on Hoseok more than he’d initially intended.

At first, he’d wanted to leave the kind (and handsome) music teacher alone and rely on his friends, because they’d do anything for him, and he knew it. But, no matter what they promised, they had families of their own to worry about. On weekends, when Changkyun wasn’t expected to be at school and both Jooheon and Kihyun were watching over the café all day, he had no choice but to leave Changkyun with his friends and their son (despite how much Changkyun insisted that he wasn’t the biggest fan of hanging out with Minhyuk, because he was _‘weird’_ ). They couldn’t afford a babysitter, and Hyungwon worked from home, anyway—it was the simplest solution.

But, Hyunwoo and Hyungwon had their own lives and a child to worry about, full-time. There was a guilt that came with asking them for their help, all the time.

On the other hand, however, Hoseok was willing to help him out with Changkyun, no matter the time of the day. Unlike Hyunwoo and Hyungwon, Hoseok lived alone and he could leave his apartment at any time, without disrupting the people living with him. Kihyun learned, rather quickly, that Hoseok lived close enough for him to be able to come over at questionable hours of the night. He was by their side, when Kihyun didn’t know what to do with a crying child (when he didn’t know what to do other than hug the child and cry with him, though he knew that he needed to be the stronger figure in the child’s life).

Perhaps, it was a little strange to be so close to your child’s teacher, but there was something about Hoseok that insisted that their relationship be a little more complex. What was once a simple, physical attraction seemed to grow into so much more with the passing months—Kihyun couldn’t seem to find the root of it all, but there was something special about Shin Hoseok, and Kihyun couldn’t begin to express how grateful for the older man he was.

His kindness paired greatly with his affections, and he adored Changkyun as much as the child seemed to adore his music teacher. It warmed Kihyun’s heart to know that someone other than himself loved his older brother’s child as much as he did. And despite everything that Hoseok was obviously willing to do for them, Kihyun still felt like he was bothering Hoseok—infiltrating into his life with meaningless worries. The older man made sure to reassure Kihyun that he’d been the one to offer his help and he didn’t have the slightest issue with responding to Kihyun’s panicked text messages in the middle of the night, about a crying child and all of his worries.

To a heart saddened with loss, someone as kind as Hoseok was a gift. The gratitude which filled his heart for the older man was the reason that his heartbeat seemed to race whenever he stepped a little too close to the dark-haired man, surely. (And surely, that one time that their hands brushed, when Hoseok reached for a clipboard during the one school trip for the first graders that Kihyun had volunteered to supervise couldn’t have meant anything more. And it couldn’t have anything to do with the reasoning behind why Kihyun’s heart couldn’t ever seem to control itself when he was closer to the music teacher.)

For both Changkyun and Kihyun, they’d been thrown into situations they’d never could have imagined, but there were perks that came with everything. The first being the presence of someone to stay with, someone to stay by their sides and hold their hands, while their hearts hurt for the loss of a life that meant worlds to them. The second being the fact that having Changkyun by his side had him looking at his schedules with a more family-oriented view, making him start prioritizing more time for family—more time to figure out where he could find time to head back to Ilsan and visit his mother.

And the third being a kind soul who was willing to help the both of them through everything that dared to try and knock them down.

 

 

 

By the time of the first snowfall, Changkyun relented on his insistence in not wanting to look Kihyun in the eye. They managed to share meals with casual conversation about their days, and Changkyun let Kihyun press soft kisses to the top of his head, when he was tucking him into bed. The little boy sat patiently, when Kihyun pulled out his camera, innocently posing for the camera—and to Kihyun, it was amazing, because the five year old wouldn’t have thought twice about saying no, when they first met.

Changkyun still refused to use his honorifics when he spoke about Kihyun (though he made sure that he referred to Kihyun by anything but his name, when they visited Kihyun’s mother, in an attempt to disguise his lack of manners towards the older man), but they made further developments in their relationship. It was far from as awkward as it used to be, and Kihyun was more than grateful for the development.

He didn’t know what he’d do, had it dragged out any longer than it did.

And one of the happiest moments of his life was when Changkyun let Kihyun pick him up into his arms; allowing him to wrap a warm scarf around his neck, before he ran out to play in the snow with Minhyuk.

The grey-haired man followed the little boy out into the cold, winter air and watched as he rolled around in the snowbanks with Minhyuk, after school in the playground. It lit a fire in Kihyun’s heart in the middle of the winter sky to know that Changkyun was finally warming up to the environment around him, at last. And his thin jacket might not have been warm enough, but the sight before him was enough for a smile to curl onto his lips and a warmth to spread across his chest.

“They’re going to get sick, if they don’t put some gloves on,” Hoseok remarked, coming to stand beside Kihyun. The younger man turned his head, laughing quietly. He hadn’t noticed Hoseok leaving the classroom and walking into the playground to stand by his side.

“I put gloves on him, earlier,” he replied, shaking his head, “But, he took them off to throw snow at Minhyuk.”

“You know, when I first saw him with Minhyuk, he looked so scared,” Hoseok started, a fond smile on his lips at a memory he’d recalled, “I taught Minhyuk, when he was in first grade, but I thought: _there’s no way I can let this little boy walk Changkyun home from school_. That was the day that you weren’t able to pick them up from school and Hyungwon was out of town for a conference. You were late, and Minhyuk insisted that he could take the both of them back to his place, until you got off work.

“Changkyun hid behind me, but he told me that Minhyuk was a family friend. And you don’t live very far, so I watched them walk home together. Changkyun looked like he wanted to do anything but walk and talk with Minhyuk. But, look at them, now.”

_It was amazing how time changed so much._

Kihyun laughed, “He didn’t like Minhyuk very much, when I first took him over to Hyungwon’s place. He thought he was a little bit _weird_.”

Hoseok chuckled, and there was a moment of silence as they looked at one another. Kihyun’s heart skipped a beat when his eyes met with Hoseok’s and he felt the need to turn shy eyes away. The dark-haired man opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, their attention was pulled away from one another and focused onto the two children running around in front of them.

Changkyun tripped over his feet, promptly falling face first into the snow. Hearing the soft thud of a small body falling into the snow (along with a soft scream of surprise), Minhyuk immediately stopped running, turning to helplessly stare at the smaller child laying in the snow.

And while Minhyuk stood frozen, both Kihyun and Hoseok dashed towards the little boy.

Hoseok was faster than Kihyun was. The older man was almost immediately by the little boy’s side, helping him up. Kihyun was close behind him, but by the time that he made it to the music teacher’s side, Changkyun was already back on his feet with a goofy grin on his lips.

Kihyun couldn’t help but bite back a smile when he watched Hoseok brush the snow out of Changkyun’s hair and shake his head, placing his beanie back on his head properly, before the little boy grabbed a ball of snow and chased after Minhyuk. They made eye contact from over Changkyun’s head and Kihyun felt another burst of warmth in his chest. Hoseok stood up, shaking his head with a small grin on his lips as he watched the children.

“Are you okay?” Kihyun asked, cupping Changkyun’s face with his hands and checking him for injuries. The little boy nodded his head, smile not fading from his lips. The energy practically radiated from him and Kihyun mirrored the smile on Changkyun’s face, almost immediately.

“Yup!” he replied. Then, shrugging out of Kihyun’s hold, the little boy turned to look at his teacher, eyes practically glistening under the afternoon sunlight.

“Come make a snowman with us!” Changkyun said, tugging onto Hoseok’s wrist with a bright smile on his lips. Hoseok laughed, letting himself be pulled off by the little boy. The older man flashed Kihyun an apologetic smile, before he turned his attention back to the children.

Kihyun’s fond eyes followed their figures moving further away from him and towards the larger snowbanks.

There was the sudden warmth of a scarf draping around his neck, making up for what he jacket couldn’t do for him, and Kihyun turned his head to meet with Hyungwon’s eyes.

“What’s between you two?” Hyungwon asked, halting his footsteps and standing beside the grey-haired man. Kihyun’s lips twisted into a small frown at the inquiry.

“Changkyun and I?” he asked, confused. With an amused smile on his lips, Hyungwon shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, shaking his head.

“No,” he replied. “You and Hoseok.”

Kihyun paused, raising an eyebrow at his friend, “Hoseok and I?”

Hyungwon nodded, “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“… I’m not sure,” he replied.

_But, if anything was for certain, he’s sure they’re something more than just friends._

 

 

 

The last day of school before the Christmas break, for Changkyun, was a day where Kihyun needed to work a little later—a little too late to pick the boy up on time. He’d excused himself too frequently from the café to call himself a proud owner of it, anymore. And, no matter how much Jooheon insisted that he didn’t mind watching over the café on the days where Kihyun needed to leave a little earlier to pick Changkyun up, Kihyun couldn’t help but feel guilty for all the work he was putting on his best friend. It was a partnership, but it started to feel so much less like it, when Kihyun was always absent. Jooheon understood Kihyun’s circumstances, but the grey-haired man simply felt that it wasn’t enough of an excuse to completely neglect his dreams.

He’d spoken to Hoseok, asked him if it would be alright for the teacher to walk Changkyun to the café, after school ended. He promised that he could watch over the little boy, so long as the boy could make it to the café, safely. It had been Changkyun who was insistent that Kihyun should give Hoseok the keys to their apartment and let the music teacher and the five year old boy prepare dinner for the night.

Kihyun had been hesitant, but Changkyun won over his heart with a purse of his lips into a pout.

But, when he came home from work, he wasn’t expecting the apartment (and the entire hallway leading to the apartment) to smell like gingerbread and sugar. _His idea of dinner really wasn’t an overload of sugar._

The front door was left unlocked, because he’d given Hoseok his key. It seemed that neither Hoseok nor Changkyun noticed him returning to the apartment, even when he dropped his bag down with a soft thud in the living room. He could hear Changkyun’s childish laughter from in the kitchen and, with quiet footsteps, he approached the kitchen.

“Are you going to tell him, Teacher Shin?” Changkyun’s voice came from inside the kitchen, his words escaping between his soft giggles, when Kihyun stepped closer to the doorway.

Hoseok laughed at the inquiry. From the entrance to the kitchen, Kihyun could see the way that Hoseok’s gentle fingers brushed Changkyun’s fringe out of his eyes as the little more drew icing onto a gingerbread cookie. “Am I going to tell him? Maybe I will.”

“If I tell him,” Changkyun said, “Then, you need to tell him, too!”

“Are you talking about me?” Kihyun interrupted them with a smile on his lips.

Both Hoseok and the little boy jumped and Kihyun laughed.

“You’re home,” Hoseok said, being the first to recover from the sudden surprise. Kihyun’s heart fluttered at the sound of his voice—somehow, it almost sounded like he was being welcomed home by someone special, after a long day at work. But, he shook the thought of out his mind—that was just him being delusional. And then, the older man laughed, “Yes, we’re talking about you.”

Kihyun arched an eyebrow, “What do you two have to tell me?”

 _“Oh! I’m going first!”_ Changkyun slipped out of his chair, moving to reach for the plate of decorated gingerbread cookies on the table. Hoseok reached over, sliding the plate closer to the edge for Changkyun to be able to reach the plate. Kihyun’s eyes followed the little boy and with his small hands holding onto the plate, carefully, Changkyun approached Kihyun with careful footsteps and a mess of frosting on his face. It was endearing, to say the least.

Kihyun bent down on his knees as the little boy approached him, and he reached for the smear of green frosting on Changkyun’s cheek, his eyes sparkling with fondness as he wiped it off the little boy’s cheek. And in a moment like this, Kihyun wished that he had his camera on him—snapping a photo of the little boy like this would make sweet, priceless memories.

“What do you have to tell me, Changkyunnie?” he asked, softly. The little boy held out the cookies on the plate, clearing his throat, as if he were about to launch into a grand speech—it’s adorable. Kihyun’s expression softened as Hoseok watched the both of them with a fond smile on his lips.

“Papa told me that I had to be nice to everyone, because they’ll be nice to me, if I’m nice to them,” Changkyun started, playing with the edge of the cookie plate. “Teacher Shin and I made you cookies as a gift, because it’s almost Christmas and I didn’t get you a present, but you put a lot of stuff under the tree with my name on it.”

“You’ve been snooping?” Kihyun asked, teasingly. Changkyun’s ears turned pink and he shook his small body, too embarrassed to admit that he’d been looking through the gifts.

The little boy put the plate down onto the floor and stepped around it, wrapping his arms around Kihyun’s body.

“I also want to say: _thank you for being my second daddy_ ,” Changkyun finished. Then, with pure, bright eyes, the little boy looked up at him with a small smile, “I love you, daddy.”

With his fingers covered in the green frosting from Changkyun’s cheeks, he found himself immediately tearing up. Unable to help the way tears welled in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, the emotions seemed to hit him with an unfathomable magnitude. Almost immediately, Changkyun’s small hands were trying to reach for a tissue to wipe Kihyun’s tears away, his little brows furrowed in concern at the tears.

“Don’t cry,” he said, the worry evident in his tone, “Oh no, I thought you’d be happy, if I told you I love you—”

Kihyun held Changkyun’s hands, the little boy’s palm flat against his cheek and he smiled, through the tears, “No,” he whispered. “I’m happy. I’m really so happy, Changkyunnie. I really am. _Thank you._ ”

The burst of emotions held them together in a warm embrace for a moment of silence (save the soft sniffling from Kihyun), where they did nothing but relish in the existence of one another, forgetting about everything around them. The wave of all his relief and all of his affection for the little boy washed over him and he could hardly stop the tears from falling from his eyes.

More than anything, he was grateful for Changkyun’s acceptance, at last.

 

 

 

They watch a movie together, after the three of them share dinner and Changkyun insisted that his teacher needed to stay with them ( _“Teacher Shin, you don’t have work tomorrow! I don’t have school!”_ he’d reasoned with the older man). They ended up choosing an animated Disney movie, and it has Changkyun absolutely enthralled for the entirety of an hour and a half, before the little boy knocked out on the sofa in between Hoseok and Kihyun—his head rested against Kihyun’s arm as he snored softly.

After tucking the little boy into bed, they’d gone out to the balcony for some fresh air, and Kihyun hadn’t really been expecting Hoseok to lace their fingers together, gently. But, Hoseok’s hand found his, when they were standing on the balcony together, after Changkyun fell asleep on the sofa in the middle of the movie. His grip was gentle and Kihyun let their fingers interlace, easily.

He turned his head to look at the older man, curious eyes dancing under the moonlight.

“Changkyun told me that if he was going to work up all the courage in the world and tell you that he was grateful for you being his second father, then I needed to tell you everything that I want to tell you, too,” Hoseok spoke, quietly, not waiting for Kihyun to ask a question.

There was a pause, as if Hoseok was waiting for Kihyun’s full attention to be on him. He had Kihyun’s attention from the second he’d laced their fingers together. (He had his attention from the very first time they met.)

Kihyun nodded his head, “What is it?”

Hoseok took a breath—exhaling all of his nerves and Kihyun could feel the way the grip on his hand tightened for a brief moment—”I want you to know that I’m proud of you,” he said, softly. “I know that we haven’t known one another for very long, but I want you to know that in the few months I’ve known you, I have never been anything short of amazed by you. After everything you’ve gone through, you managed to keep your head high and take care of yourself and a child—you have nothing but love to give everyone around you, and that amazes me.

“You’re such a strong person and you might feel like it’s only because of the people around you, but I see it in your eyes that you just want to make everything _right and fair_. You give to everyone, selflessly, and you feel guilty for the tiny things you do that you think are selfish. You’re anything but selfish, Kihyun, and it’s one of the purest things I’ve ever seen in anyone. You’re the type of person to sacrifice everything if it’ll make the people you care about happy,” Hoseok took a breath, “I feel like I’m going on a tangent, but I just want you to know that I’m just so proud of you and everything you’ve done.”

“But, if you’d let me,” Hoseok continued, raising his other hand to gently cup Kihyun’s cheek. There was a tender light in his eyes that had Kihyun’s heart fluttering in his chest. “If you’d let me, I’d love to be that someone who could give back to you… in the form of happiness, maybe. If you’d let me, I’d love to make you happy, Kihyun.”

It took him a moment for all of Hoseok’s words to sink in. And then, he raised his hand to place it gently over the hand which was rested gently on his cheek. Kihyun took a breath, raising his eyes to meet with the older man’s earnest gaze. His voice was barely a whisper, a soft sound that could have escaped with the wind if Hoseok wasn’t listening, when he found his words and spoke.

_“May I kiss you?”_

He didn’t get his answer in words, but rather in the form of Hoseok’s plush lips pressing softly against his own.

This time, when the butterflies exploded in his stomach, it was all for a different reason.

And _this_ felt like he was opening a new chapter to his story.


End file.
